When The Phone Rings Novel

Was what happened yesterday a dream?

Hee-joo stifled a yawn as she busied herself with her hands.

"As stated in the medical report, the patient underwent emergency surgery to suture a ruptured testicle, but the prognosis is very poor."

This was the courthouse.

Hee-joo stiffly signed as she interpreted.

As a freelancer, she was assisting the head of the interpretation center at the court today. They were often dispatched to courts, prosecutors' offices, police stations, and hospitals. Today, Hee-joo was interpreting for a deaf-mute defendant.

"That bastard fell and injured himself!"

The defendant's wife, standing at the dock, was breathing heavily in rage. Her clenched fists trembled with fury.

This was a case where a wife had broken her husband's testicle with a soup spoon.

"Who tortures someone with their paranoia?!"

The wife pounded her chest and glared fiercely at her husband sitting in the plaintiff's seat.

It was a case combining negligence-related injury and divorce litigation.

"We have submitted medical reports as evidence of years of domestic violence."

"Your Honor, for a significant injury that results in permanent physiological impairment, the intentionality of the act must be considered first..."

"We have also submitted audio recordings of the husband's verbal abuse and death threats, as well as text messages and photographs of his infidelity with his mistress..."

The arguments on both sides were growing increasingly heated.

Hee-joo translated the lawyers' words word for word, naturally becoming engrossed in the case.

When the husband's audio recordings were played in court, the room fell into a heavy silence.

The words were unspeakable.

The wife covered her face with both hands.

Now, all that remained was the judge's decision.

The wife lowered her head, then suddenly cast a strange look at Hee-joo

Slowly, she began to sign.

"Paranoia can't be cured."

"...What?"

"There's always a first symptom of everything. I should have left back then."

The corners of the wife's mouth lifted slightly.

"Never let your guard down. It only takes a moment for a husband to become your enemy."

"..."

"I've lived my whole life as a deaf person, but the hardest people to communicate with aren't this country, foreigners, or even able-bodied people."

"..."

"It's my own husband."

"But my husband at home."

"...!"

"They're an utterly uncommunicative group."

For some reason, Hee-joo avoided her gaze and only mouthed silent words.

"Does your family have someone like that, Interpreter?"

"...Ah, maybe."

"Then don't end up regretting it like I did."

Finally, the door opened, and the judges returned to the courtroom.

The defendant's wife, with a cold expression, signed her final words.

"I should have blown up both of them."

"...!"

A chill ran down Hee-joo's spine.

"—Hee-joo, dear, Hee-joo?"

The center head shook her shoulder, snapping her out of her daze and silencing the ringing in her ears.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"What?" Hee-joo asked blankly.

"How did you find interpreting for the trial? Would you like to try it again?"

Hee-joo stopped walking and fell into thought.

The courthouse hallways were bustling with people—prosecutors and judges in robes, prisoners escorted by guards, and people crying loudly.

Her dry lips moistened slightly.

Threats, defamation, obscenity via communication devices, violations of communication secrecy laws...

For the first time, Hee-joo reflected on how her once-bold start in this profession had spiraled into tragedy.

The true dangers, masked by the adrenaline that had long fueled her, became evident

"Hee-joo, are you unwell?"

"No." She smiled faintly at the worried center head.

"Court work... it terrifies me. I can't continue."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"If I keep coming here, I think I might become a criminal myself."

The defendant's wife—Hee-joo recognized that face.

It was the same expression she had worn the day she broke through the glass to escape.

When she was a child, there was a phrase in a game her classmates often played:

"The night falls; the mafia silently raises their heads."

And now, the threats had begun to surface.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

Hee-joo clutched her phone anxiously.

"But what really happened last night?"

When Baek Sa-oen approached her, Hee-joo couldn't help but instinctively tense her thighs.

She had used "check for yourself" to provoke him, thinking it would backfire on her.

However, Baek Sa-oen simply talked about the sign language interpreter position, as if the blackmailer's threats meant nothing to him, and then left.

Was this trust in his wife, or just sheer arrogance?

At that moment, her phone stopped ringing.

"Hello..."

"I'm busy right now. Call back later."

Before she could finish, the call was abruptly cut off.

Beep—

...What?

Hee-joo stared blankly at her phone.

What's going on?

She felt as if someone had flipped her internal switch, leaving her frozen in place.

Now... what is this?

Her stunned expression quickly twisted into one of anger.

"Ignoring a blackmailer? Are you insane?"

For the first time, Hee-joo pressed the screen with all her might.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

The ability to call was her power. She was the one in control; Baek Sa-oen should be the one forced to follow.

Her bold plan and flimsy threats felt like crumpled paper.

The area under her eyes twitched slightly

"Baek Sa-oen, don't you dare hang up—"

Click.

"Wait a second—"

"At this point, who's more desperate, I wonder?"

"If you keep this up, I won't let you off! Absolutely not!"

Hee-joo raised her voice, though it sounded like bravado.

"Then wait."

"What?"

"If you really want to talk to me, then wait."

"..."

"For an excited pervert like you, this kind of punishment is necessary."

What...?!

"Call me back in five minutes."

Just as Hee-joo was about to lose her temper, the call abruptly ended.

"Ahhh...!"

She threw her phone onto the bed in a fit of rage.

It was the longest five minutes of her life.

Hee-joo kept dialing, but her own persistence began to disgust her.

Finally, she set down her now-heated phone and took a deep breath.

"The moment I got angry, I was already being led by him."

She shouldn't have lowered herself and compromised her dignity first.

Biting her lip, Hee-joo calmed herself, then redialed.

After what felt like five days crammed into five minutes, she acted.

Beep... Beep...

No matter what, I can't lose my cool this time. I absolutely can't lose my cool. Don't lose your cool...

"A scum like you being useful? What a stroke of luck."

Don't say anything...

"From now on, kneeling and waiting will suit you."

Don't lose your cool...

"Who knows? Maybe I'll even shove a bone in your mouth."

"Do you have a death wish?!"

The calm she had painstakingly regained shattered like a dandelion puff blown apart.

"What exactly do you want?!"

Hee-joo decided her threats might not be concrete enough and resolved to post something online that very day.

Through clenched teeth, she growled,

"I'll never let you off the hook. Don't regret this later!"

"Right. Acting now is the best way to avoid regret."

"What?"

"Who else could fix a temper like yours but me?"

"Ha... You're dead meat!"

Just then, a loud noise erupted from the other end of the line.

The connection grew unstable, crackling with a piercing static.

"What...? Hello? Hello?"

At the same time, a sharp, painful ringing stabbed her ear.

Hee-joo dropped her phone in fright and clutched one ear, feeling like her eardrum was being assaulted.

"What the hell is this..."

She picked up the phone from the floor, but the call never reconnected.

Her ear throbbed as if needles were piercing it.

"Ugh...!"

Hee-joo was convinced he had used some sort of trick to seize control of the conversation.

Panting, she massaged her now-sensitive ear.

Third Call_mp3.

This time, it was a total disaster.

"Ahhhh!"

That night, Baek Sa-oen didn't come home.

Even in the early hours of the morning, he usually managed to return, but this time, he stayed out overnight—for the first time since their marriage.

"...At around 10:07 p.m. last night, a fire broke out in an office in Yeouido, causing multiple casualties. Here's the report from JBS journalist Kang Soo-ji."

With a press of the remote, the morning news began playing.

Half-awake, Hee-joo shuffled into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, stacking several small containers of side dishes until they reached her chin.

"A man in a black jacket and hat was seen carrying a white bucket upstairs. He retrieved something from his bag before entering the office on the fifth floor."

Blinking her dry eyes, Hee-joo opened each container one by one.

"Shortly after, flames spread rapidly, and thick smoke began to rise. Frightened by the fire, people hurriedly fled downstairs, but the smoke quickly engulfed the area."

Yesterday, Baek Sa-oen had spent the night out.

There wasn't any explicit rule against it, but for some reason, it left her unable to sleep.

No, maybe it wasn't just that. Did she have a nightmare? She tilted her head, trying to recall.

"This is the interior of the office where the fire occurred. Six people were injured. Smoke still fills the room, with debris from victims' computers scattered everywhere. Structural elements from the ceiling, likely impacted by the explosion, have fallen onto the desks."

Instinctively, Hee-joo practiced signing along with the reporter's broadcast.

Scooping rice from the cooker, she prepared her spoon and chopsticks.

"A single shoe left behind illustrates the urgency of the situation. The empty office was eerily silent except for the continuous ringing of a phone, presumably belonging to one of the victims."

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

The sound in the report made her pause.

She unconsciously thought of Baek Sa-oen.

Her ears still echoed with the sharp ringing from the previous night's call, a piercing pain that had yet to fade.

Was it on purpose?

Humiliated by the loss of control, Hee-joo gritted her teeth.

"After over 20 minutes of firefighting efforts, the flames were extinguished. Six individuals who collapsed from inhaling toxic fumes or sustained injuries while fleeing are currently receiving medical treatment."

She plopped onto a chair and finally took a bite of rice.

Glancing at the TV, she noticed the broadcast had shifted from the fire site to the studio.

"This is an exclusive JBS recording of the suspect's voice. The suspect was known to harbor resentment toward the victims, frequently making threatening calls and even warning of the crime beforehand."

At that moment, Hee-joo's spoon clattered to the floor.

Was what happened yesterday a dream?

Hee-joo stifled a yawn as she busied herself with her hands.

"As stated in the medical report, the patient underwent emergency surgery to suture a ruptured testicle, but the prognosis is very poor."

This was the courthouse.

Hee-joo stiffly signed as she interpreted.

As a freelancer, she was assisting the head of the interpretation center at the court today. They were often dispatched to courts, prosecutors' offices, police stations, and hospitals. Today, Hee-joo was interpreting for a deaf-mute defendant.

"That bastard fell and injured himself!"

The defendant's wife, standing at the dock, was breathing heavily in rage. Her clenched fists trembled with fury.

This was a case where a wife had broken her husband's testicle with a soup spoon.

"Who tortures someone with their paranoia?!"

The wife pounded her chest and glared fiercely at her husband sitting in the plaintiff's seat.

It was a case combining negligence-related injury and divorce litigation.

"We have submitted medical reports as evidence of years of domestic violence."

"Your Honor, for a significant injury that results in permanent physiological impairment, the intentionality of the act must be considered first..."

"We have also submitted audio recordings of the husband's verbal abuse and death threats, as well as text messages and photographs of his infidelity with his mistress..."

The arguments on both sides were growing increasingly heated.

Hee-joo translated the lawyers' words word for word, naturally becoming engrossed in the case.

When the husband's audio recordings were played in court, the room fell into a heavy silence.

The words were unspeakable.

The wife covered her face with both hands.

Now, all that remained was the judge's decision.

The wife lowered her head, then suddenly cast a strange look at Hee-joo

Slowly, she began to sign.

"Paranoia can't be cured."

"...What?"

"There's always a first symptom of everything. I should have left back then."

The corners of the wife's mouth lifted slightly.

"Never let your guard down. It only takes a moment for a husband to become your enemy."

"..."

"I've lived my whole life as a deaf person, but the hardest people to communicate with aren't this country, foreigners, or even able-bodied people."

"..."

"It's my own husband."

"But my husband at home."

"...!"

"They're an utterly uncommunicative group."

For some reason, Hee-joo avoided her gaze and only mouthed silent words.

"Does your family have someone like that, Interpreter?"

"...Ah, maybe."

"Then don't end up regretting it like I did."

Finally, the door opened, and the judges returned to the courtroom.

The defendant's wife, with a cold expression, signed her final words.

"I should have blown up both of them."

"...!"

A chill ran down Hee-joo's spine.

"—Hee-joo, dear, Hee-joo?"

The center head shook her shoulder, snapping her out of her daze and silencing the ringing in her ears.

"Did you hear what I said?"

"What?" Hee-joo asked blankly.

"How did you find interpreting for the trial? Would you like to try it again?"

Hee-joo stopped walking and fell into thought.

The courthouse hallways were bustling with people—prosecutors and judges in robes, prisoners escorted by guards, and people crying loudly.

Her dry lips moistened slightly.

Threats, defamation, obscenity via communication devices, violations of communication secrecy laws...

For the first time, Hee-joo reflected on how her once-bold start in this profession had spiraled into tragedy.

The true dangers, masked by the adrenaline that had long fueled her, became evident

"Hee-joo, are you unwell?"

"No." She smiled faintly at the worried center head.

"Court work... it terrifies me. I can't continue."

"Huh? What does that mean?"

"If I keep coming here, I think I might become a criminal myself."

The defendant's wife—Hee-joo recognized that face.

It was the same expression she had worn the day she broke through the glass to escape.

When she was a child, there was a phrase in a game her classmates often played:

"The night falls; the mafia silently raises their heads."

And now, the threats had begun to surface.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

Hee-joo clutched her phone anxiously.

"But what really happened last night?"

When Baek Sa-oen approached her, Hee-joo couldn't help but instinctively tense her thighs.

She had used "check for yourself" to provoke him, thinking it would backfire on her.

However, Baek Sa-oen simply talked about the sign language interpreter position, as if the blackmailer's threats meant nothing to him, and then left.

Was this trust in his wife, or just sheer arrogance?

At that moment, her phone stopped ringing.

"Hello..."

"I'm busy right now. Call back later."

Before she could finish, the call was abruptly cut off.

Beep—

...What?

Hee-joo stared blankly at her phone.

What's going on?

She felt as if someone had flipped her internal switch, leaving her frozen in place.

Now... what is this?

Her stunned expression quickly twisted into one of anger.

"Ignoring a blackmailer? Are you insane?"

For the first time, Hee-joo pressed the screen with all her might.

Beep, beep. Beep, beep.

The ability to call was her power. She was the one in control; Baek Sa-oen should be the one forced to follow.

Her bold plan and flimsy threats felt like crumpled paper.

The area under her eyes twitched slightly

"Baek Sa-oen, don't you dare hang up—"

Click.

"Wait a second—"

"At this point, who's more desperate, I wonder?"

"If you keep this up, I won't let you off! Absolutely not!"

Hee-joo raised her voice, though it sounded like bravado.

"Then wait."

"What?"

"If you really want to talk to me, then wait."

"..."

"For an excited pervert like you, this kind of punishment is necessary."

What...?!

"Call me back in five minutes."

Just as Hee-joo was about to lose her temper, the call abruptly ended.

"Ahhh...!"

She threw her phone onto the bed in a fit of rage.

It was the longest five minutes of her life.

Hee-joo kept dialing, but her own persistence began to disgust her.

Finally, she set down her now-heated phone and took a deep breath.

"The moment I got angry, I was already being led by him."

She shouldn't have lowered herself and compromised her dignity first.

Biting her lip, Hee-joo calmed herself, then redialed.

After what felt like five days crammed into five minutes, she acted.

Beep... Beep...

No matter what, I can't lose my cool this time. I absolutely can't lose my cool. Don't lose your cool...

"A scum like you being useful? What a stroke of luck."

Don't say anything...

"From now on, kneeling and waiting will suit you."

Don't lose your cool...

"Who knows? Maybe I'll even shove a bone in your mouth."

"Do you have a death wish?!"

The calm she had painstakingly regained shattered like a dandelion puff blown apart.

"What exactly do you want?!"

Hee-joo decided her threats might not be concrete enough and resolved to post something online that very day.

Through clenched teeth, she growled,

"I'll never let you off the hook. Don't regret this later!"

"Right. Acting now is the best way to avoid regret."

"What?"

"Who else could fix a temper like yours but me?"

"Ha... You're dead meat!"

Just then, a loud noise erupted from the other end of the line.

The connection grew unstable, crackling with a piercing static.

"What...? Hello? Hello?"

At the same time, a sharp, painful ringing stabbed her ear.

Hee-joo dropped her phone in fright and clutched one ear, feeling like her eardrum was being assaulted.

"What the hell is this..."

She picked up the phone from the floor, but the call never reconnected.

Her ear throbbed as if needles were piercing it.

"Ugh...!"

Hee-joo was convinced he had used some sort of trick to seize control of the conversation.

Panting, she massaged her now-sensitive ear.

Third Call_mp3.

This time, it was a total disaster.

"Ahhhh!"

That night, Baek Sa-oen didn't come home.

Even in the early hours of the morning, he usually managed to return, but this time, he stayed out overnight—for the first time since their marriage.

"...At around 10:07 p.m. last night, a fire broke out in an office in Yeouido, causing multiple casualties. Here's the report from JBS journalist Kang Soo-ji."

With a press of the remote, the morning news began playing.

Half-awake, Hee-joo shuffled into the kitchen. She opened the fridge, stacking several small containers of side dishes until they reached her chin.

"A man in a black jacket and hat was seen carrying a white bucket upstairs. He retrieved something from his bag before entering the office on the fifth floor."

Blinking her dry eyes, Hee-joo opened each container one by one.

"Shortly after, flames spread rapidly, and thick smoke began to rise. Frightened by the fire, people hurriedly fled downstairs, but the smoke quickly engulfed the area."

Yesterday, Baek Sa-oen had spent the night out.

There wasn't any explicit rule against it, but for some reason, it left her unable to sleep.

No, maybe it wasn't just that. Did she have a nightmare? She tilted her head, trying to recall.

"This is the interior of the office where the fire occurred. Six people were injured. Smoke still fills the room, with debris from victims' computers scattered everywhere. Structural elements from the ceiling, likely impacted by the explosion, have fallen onto the desks."

Instinctively, Hee-joo practiced signing along with the reporter's broadcast.

Scooping rice from the cooker, she prepared her spoon and chopsticks.

"A single shoe left behind illustrates the urgency of the situation. The empty office was eerily silent except for the continuous ringing of a phone, presumably belonging to one of the victims."

Ring, ring. Ring, ring.

The sound in the report made her pause.

She unconsciously thought of Baek Sa-oen.

Her ears still echoed with the sharp ringing from the previous night's call, a piercing pain that had yet to fade.

Was it on purpose?

Humiliated by the loss of control, Hee-joo gritted her teeth.

"After over 20 minutes of firefighting efforts, the flames were extinguished. Six individuals who collapsed from inhaling toxic fumes or sustained injuries while fleeing are currently receiving medical treatment."

She plopped onto a chair and finally took a bite of rice.

Glancing at the TV, she noticed the broadcast had shifted from the fire site to the studio.

"This is an exclusive JBS recording of the suspect's voice. The suspect was known to harbor resentment toward the victims, frequently making threatening calls and even warning of the crime beforehand."

At that moment, Hee-joo's spoon clattered to the floor.